50 Moments
by Tasogare-Taichou
Summary: NejiHina. A themechallange for the LJ community 50shinobi, eventually numbering 50.
1. DeepFried Broccolli

Deep-Fried Broccoli

It was that time again. "That time" being roughly a quarter past six in the evening, one of the many times of the day that Hyuuga Hinata had come to bemoan in her daily life. Quarter past six was when dinner was served, and dinner in and of itself was nearly always a trial. This dinner would be no exception, it seemed, as she stared at the plates sitting on the neatly-dressed table in front of her. Well, as neatly dressed as any table with a toddler in a highchair placed nearby could be. At least the mess tended to confine itself to the quarter of the table where Hirako's food sat.

Not that her daughter was a picky eater. No, it seemed that her 19 month old offspring took after her mother in regards to her taste in food. That meaning that she was jovial, accepting, and fairly non-critical of new things or "strange" dishes. To Hirako, food was food, and she laid into it the way most children of the age of nearly-two laid into a bowl of chocolate icecream.

But, like so many other things in life, a victory on one front seemed to mean a loss on another. That "other front" at the moment came in the form of her five year old son, who stubbornly refused to eat his food. Thus the plate of simple grilled fish, rice, and deep-fried vegetables sat relatively untouched. Or…at least the vegetable part sat untouched. Rice and fish were enough of a staple in any child's diet that it would have been unheard of for a normal, healthy little boy to not eat them. Vegetables, on the other hand, were a different matter entirely.

Which meant that Hyuuga Hinata sat at her place at the table and stared down Hyuuga Hiori as he sullenly poked at a crusted piece of broccoli with his chopsticks, small mouth pulled into a frown. She couldn't help but smile at the picture he made, dark eyebrows pulled together in a small mimicry of the expression she could swear was permanently etched into his father's forehead. Well, at least whenever he wasn't around _her_. That was when he smiled, when the two of them were alone.

"Hiori, eat your vegetables. They're good for you. Aren't they, Neji-kun?"

A sidelong glance to her left revealed the other taxing part of the evening's meal as she watched another pair of dark brown eyebrows draw together into the same frown, that familiar downturn of mouth spreading as a second pair of chopsticks prodded browned vegetables as though they were about to leap up and attack at any moment. The object of her comment simply poked a carrot out of the way and gave a non-committal grunt in response.

Frowning herself, she narrowed her eyes at the familiar figure of her husband, wondering how a man who commanded ANBU, who stared down danger and garnered the respect of everyone in the entire village, could be so childish as to be stubborn over something as simple as a few vegetables. Especially after she'd gone to the trouble of frying them, even though she didn't like for Hiori to eat so much fried food. At least she'd hoped the crispy and spiced coating of flour would potentially entice her recalcitrant spouse and defiant offspring to add some balance to their diets.

But then, there was a reason she always smiled when she watched Hiori practicing his Juuken. The little boy really _was_ his father's son, from the tip of his sharp nose to the ends of his long hair, to the bandages he insisted on wearing around his forehead in adoring mimicry of his parent. Never mind that Hiori had no _reason_ to wear them. He did so anyway. He was even like Neji in other ways. The same stubbornness, the same stoic manner and tendency towards a superiority complex that came with being one of the most gifted students in his Academy class. Not to mention so many of those quirks and idiosyncrasies that she equated with her mate.

However, at this moment, Hinata was in less of a mood to smile and giggle over the small traits and charms that marked the men in her life. Right now, she was a tired mother of two who had not only finished her _own_ mission earlier that day, but done the housework and cooking that she refused to let the servants of the Hyuuga compound do for her, and was not about to deal with not one, but _two_ stubborn Hyuuga men.

She glanced up as Neji stood, wiping his mouth and heading for the door without a word. And without touching his portion of the hated vegetables. With an aggravated sigh, she shook her head.

"Neji. You forgot to eat your vegetables. Don't set a bad example for Hiori, please?"

He paused for a moment, then gave a shrug. Hinata felt her teeth grit slightly at the easy way he shrugged it off. This was NOT going to end well. Returning her face to it's normal easy smile, she shook her head.

"Neji, I made them just for you and the kids, so please sit back down and eat them."

Glancing back over his shoulder, he regarded her with a level gaze, white eyes flickering from the plate to her face and back again, as though weighing which was the more hazardous option. Shaking his head, he declined again.

"You can eat them, Hinata. You know I don't like those things. Besides, Hiori has you for a good example, doesn't he? And I've got mission reports to do. If I'm late with those, Tsunade-sama won't be happy."

As he turned to go again, she felt the vein pulse slightly in her forehead, fists clenching by her sides as she regarded the back of her husband's head with some degree of venom. Oh, it would make the perfect target for that pot sitting on the table, wouldn't it? Pushing that thought aside, regardless of how tempting it might have been, she instead stood up and slammed palms down onto the flat surface of the polished wood, white eyes boring holes into the back of his head.

"Hyuuga Neji. You will walk RIGHT back here and you will EAT those vegetables and set a GOOD EXAMPLE for your son, or else you can explain to your team-mates why you are SLEEPING IN THE ANBU BARRACKS FOR THE NEXT WEEK!"

Time slowed, seconds ticked by, and the smallest, almost imperceptible shudder passed through Neji's frame. This…this was dangerous ground to be treading. Because as much as the stoic Hyuuga hated vegetables of all sorts, he hated making his wife angry as well. Not only because the simple fact of making her angry or upset branded him an asshole regardless of whether it was his fault, but because he had learned, within the first month or so after they married, that outward appearances aside, Hyuuga Hinata DID in fact possess not only a temper, but the backbone to _use_ said temper in several damaging ways. And perhaps it was due to the simple fact that he'd been on the receiving end of said temper several times in the past that Neji stopped, and without a single word made his way back to the table and settled himself down, glaring at a piece of broccoli before starting to eat. It would seem, at least in this instance, that an angry Hinata was a far more frightening and daunting concept then the dreaded fried vegetables.


	2. Paperback

Paperback

Theme: Icha-Icha Paradise

Characters: NejiHina

Disclaimer: Naruto / mine.

It had to have been a joke. At least... she assumed it had been, _hoped_ it had been. And she was probably right in that assumption, given the current situation. White hands resting fisted on top of her knees, eyes even more alabaster stared down out of a face that was anything but white. In fact, it was decidedly red, crimson flush creeping to the tips of her ears as Hinata stared down at the article that lay innocuously in the bag on the floor.

It wasn't hers, she most certainly knew that. The bright orange book with it's colourful writing splashed across the front was most definitely NOT in Hyuuga Hinata's list of possessions. Rather, she was all but terrified of the small text, knowing full well what it contained. Those sorts of books weren't proper, weren't... well, they just weren't a part of her life. The mere fact that one of them was here, in her house, done up like a gift -- she desperately hoped it wasn't a gift for _her_ -- was a bit much for her shy and sheltered brain to process.

She hadn't set out to find the book. The loathesome thing had, in a rather spectacular show of bravado, presented it's detestable self to her when she was looking in the closet for the spare pillowcase that went on her bed. That way at least she could make it while the usual pale blue sheets were hung out to dry. Climbing onto the stool she kept handy for just such occasions when her own petite height made life a tad more difficult, a tug on the pile of sheets had sent sheets, stool, and Hinata crashing to the ground in a heap. Dusting herself off and gathering up the scattered linens, the dark-haired kunoichi had noticed the addition of a simple white paper bag with a blue bow with some trepidation. It wasn't her birthday yet, nor could she think of any particular gift-giving holiday that was approaching. And it certainly wasn't hers.

A peek into the bag had yielded a surprised and horrified gasp and the recoil of fingers as they touched the orange cover of what she knew very well was _not_ something she would have purchased, no matter what the circumstances. And now here she sat, sheets abandoned in favor of the astounded expression on pale face -- except that it was no longer pale, and rather a nice bright crimson colour -- as she tried to figure out exactly how this particular piece of literature might have made it's way into her household.

Perhaps... a mistake, a poorly-thought-out joke from one of her teammates, making jibes at her impending marriage. Not that she really would have expected it from either of them, for all their faults they _did_ at least tend to refrain from being thoughtless, amusements to the contrary. Which left any number of other possibilities. Naruto, perhaps? Thinking he'd be doing her some sort of favour or -- she gulped and felt herself turn even redder at the thought -- that she might need the "knowledge" that this particular sort of book lent.

Sparing another embarassed glance at the bag, Hinata couldn't deny that she was a tad curious, if only in a purely matter-of-fact way. The Hyuuga heir knew perfectly well that her experience in... that area... was lacking. Woefully lacking. To the extent that she'd really only ever been kissed twice and one of those had been when she was 3 and that didn't really count.

As her mind picked over the possibilities, the embarassment of having found the paperback gradually settling into at least a more manageable level, eyes widened as yet another glimmer of comprehension flickered through her mind. If it wasn't for her... could it belong to Neji? Scrunching her eyes shut with a determined shake of her head, she pushed that part of her mind out of the way. No, Neji wouldn't own one of these, would have thought it crass and undignified and the like. She was being silly.

But... he _was_ friends with Naruto, even if only on a grudging level of respect that he held for the blonde. So... it wasn't necessarily out of the question... No. No no no no no, definitely NOT. She shook her head frantically to clear her thoughts. No, there was absolutely NO way it could be Neji's. Which... still left the question of who's it was and how it had appeared in her linen closet.

Maybe... maybe there was a name inside the cover or on the back of it. Lower lip held throughtfully -- or perhaps apprehensively -- between teeth, she reached one hand tentatively into the bag, picking up the brightly-coloured book with thumb and forefinger, holding it out from herself as though it were a venemous snake. Turning it this way and that, she tried not to pay any attention to the vivid summary on the back, or any of the other "selling points" of the book, hoping for something as simple as a penned name on the cover. No such luck.

Taking a deep breath and swallowing, she carefully set the book down in her lap, fingers shakily reaching for the corner. It was easy. All she had to do was open the cover and look inside to see if there was a name. That was it. Fingertips moved unsteadily towards it, inching closer while Hinata was certain her face was turning even redder than she knew it already was. Closer, another inch, one more...

"Hinata-sama?"

With a squeak of surprise, she jerked her fingers back as though burned, eyes widening impossibly as her back straightened. "N..Neji-nii-san..."

Footsteps padded softly across the floor towards her, heralded by a slight sigh. "I thought I already told you, Hinata-sama. Not "nii-san". Just "Neji" is fine. Oh, you found Kakashi-san's gift. Naruto wouldn't appreciate it if it went missing, since I offered to hide it for him."

Stopping behind her, he leaned over her shoulder, one long-fingered hand hooking the edge of the book and scooping it up to redeposit it in the bag as though it were nothing. Stepping around her, he calmly replaced the bag at the top of the closet, seeming to not even notice her flustered appearance. Glancing back at her, dark brows drawing together in a bemused exspression beneath bandaged forehead, Neji cocked his head to the side.

"Are you alright, Hinata-sama? You seem a little flushed."

His words shook her out of her embarassment and she was suddenly gathering up sheets and mumbling a hurried apology before scurrying down the hallway, Neji watching her go, confused look on his face. As she rounded the corner, he leaned one arm against the doorframe for a moment, lips turning just barely upwards in a smile. She really was cute when she was embarassed.


End file.
